Blood on the Stars
by MoKidd
Summary: They've been selected for the missions that no one else can do. They're the toughest, meanest, most experienced soldiers that the Rebel Alliance has to offer. For twenty years they've been fighting for the cause. Now they've been brought together for one reason and one reason only, bring the Empire to its knees. Rogue Squadron rules the stars, these men rule the ground.
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1 Until Lambs Become Lions**

Command: "Rancor One, this is Mission Command. You are go for insertion, repeat, you are go for insertion. How copy?"

Rancor One: "Solid copy, Command, we are wheels out and inbound to target area. Please advise as to conditions in the AO."

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Expect heavy resistance in the AO. We have intel on large numbers of enemy infantry and possible light armor in the vicinity, Bothan assets are currently working to secure the package for extraction. Be advised, air and ground forces are inbound to the target area and will provide support once within range."

Rancor One: "Copy that, Command. Birds are out and inbound."

Command: "Solid copy, Rancor One. May the Force be with you."

May the Force be with us? That was a load of shit. I'd seen enough to know that faith in the Force doesn't always count for much in this galaxy. I've seen men praying for courage and strength from the Force and spouting ideals from the old Jedi ways go down bloody and screaming just like the rest of us heathen unbelievers. Growing up on Jedha, I learned that there are only two things that give you a chance in this life: a good blaster and the balls to use it. All I could remember of my life was war, from my earliest memories to the day that they called me into Yavin headquarters to see Mon Mothma and the rest of the Command Council. I'd been waist deep in mud and blood on some shithole planet on the ass-end of the Outer Rim when I got the call and had to leave behind a unit that I had served with for nearly a year and come to HQ to a bunch of gawks and shocked faces. I hated being famous even when I was among people who didn't give a shit. Being in this place was even worse.

"Okay, boys," I said to the men in the transport shuttle before me, "here's the situation: the LZ is hot and we're looking at heavy resistance, possible light armor. No intel yet on walkers of any kind, but expect tanks and heavy speeders. Rahot, you keep that heavy locked and loaded and be ready to lay down some cover fire as soon as we clear the bird. Jareen, you and Santos are with me. Galen, I want you to find an elevated position in those buildings and provide overwatch. Govina, you and Jinn cover the ship and secure the LZ. Everybody do a gear check and police up your ammo and therms. Let's do it!"

All: "Let's do it!"

I'll say one thing for the team they gave me, every man jack of them was a first class fighting man. Govina and Jareen were both ex bounty hunters with dozens of kills and captures to their names, Galen was a twelve year veteran of the Rebel cause, and Rahot was the toughest Rodian I had ever seen. I'd heard a story about him climbing into a AT-ST and take out the whole crew alone, then take out two squads of Stormtroopers with it. Rahot was quiet for a Wookie, but he was all warrior. His black fur was curled in braids around his face and beard and that scar and milky eye made him look like a monster out of some kid's story. Nobody knew how old he was. There were stories about him fighting in the Clone Wars and the Wookie Rebellion. Jinn was the wild card of the group. He was young and cocky and full of piss and vinegar, but he was supposed to be one of the best hackers in the Alliance. Then there was Decker Antilles, our shuttle pilot, whose cousin was supposed to be some big shot fighter pilot in the Navy. We gave him shit about that all the time, but it was all in good fun. He could fly a shuttle into any weather and any terrain and still set her down like a mother putting her child down for a nap.

We checked our gear and our weapons, threw on our packs and cinched up our vests, piled into the shuttle and were in the air within two minutes. Antilles lifted off and left the cruiser with all the skill that I had been led to expect from him and within a minute or two we were in atmosphere and heading toward the surface. It was a bumpy ride and we all held tight to the handrails and rings that were there for the purpose, each of us with our weapons slung and holding on for dear life. All of us were veterans of several drops, dozens in the case of myself, Rahot, and Galen, but Jinn had only done a couple orbitals and right away I saw his face going green.

Lassiter: "Jinn, if you're gonna lose your lunch then do us all a favor and go to the corner."

Jinn: "I'm fine, sir."

Lassiter: "Don't call me sir, boy, I work for a living. This new bar doesn't mean a damn thing."

Galen: "It does to us, LT. You're our commanding officer, sir. Better get used to it."

Lassiter: "We'll see about that. I've been a grunt too long to be anything else."

Govina: "We still love you, sir."

Lassiter: "Lock that shit down, Govina. Don't think that I won't smack you just because you're a girl."

Govina: "With all due respect, sir, give it your best shot."

Lassiter: "Flirt with me later, sergeant. Right now we've got a job to do."

The air was choppy and we went through atmo in few seconds. The difference in the ride was immediate. One minute we were bouncing around the shuttle and barely staying on our feet, the next we were gliding along smooth and steady. For a moment it was quiet until the anti-air fire started popping all around us. The shuttle pitched and jumped as the shells and contact made contact with the shields, alarms sounded, and we heard Antilles shouting into the radio up in the pilot's seat. I heard the ack-ack outside the hull as we went lower and lower, then the distinctive sound of ultrasonic artillery raining down from the ships in orbit. They were raining holy hell down on the poor souls down there in the base. One could almost feel sorry for them. Almost.

Antilles: We're one minute out. LZ looks hot. Lowering the drop door.

The rear hatch came down and the wind roared around us, almost pulling us out of the shuttle and nearly drowning out the explosions and the constant fire. There were two other craft within sight and I knew there was one other somewhere in the formation, each carrying another team bound for another insertion point. This was a well planned op and on paper it all looked like it would go off without a hitch, but I knew better than to trust to plans. One thing that I had always been taught about warfare and that I had seen played out time and again was that plans seldom survive contact with the enemy. We were well armed and well equipped, more so than any unit that I had ever served in, and I was confident that we could do what was needed when the time came to improvise.

I could hardly believe it when they told me just how well equipped my team would be, back when I was still wrapping my mind around the idea of it being "my" team. All of us wore a special vest with pouches that carried five thermal detonators, communicators, a fighting knife, and ten power packs for our rifles. That was enough for a thousand shots each. Back on Jedha, that would have been enough to outfit an entire platoon and then some. We had water bladders built into the backs of the vests as well, an improvement over the old canteens that I was used to. For armament we each carried the knives, a pistol in a thigh or belt holster, and most of us were armed with the new the MARS rifle that was being cranked out of the armories on Corellia. MARS stood for Multi-Adaptive Rifle System, which it certainly was. The weapon had a 16" barrel, a variable zoom optic that could go from 0x-5x and everything in between with the turn of a dial, and the reticle automatically adjusted itself for varying ranges by virtue of a built-in computer. She had a maximum range of about four hundred meters. It also used the same power packs that were used by the Imperial Stormtroopers in their E-11 blaster rifles. It was a damn fine weapon, for certain, although too expensive to be issued to the front line troops. Mon Mothma herself had told me that the weapon had been designed and built specifically for our team and teams like it. As yet, it was largely untested in the field. We all carried pistols, with Jareen carrying two on each hip, and it was our preference as to what kind. I preferred my old DL-44 that had ridden my hip for years and saved my life more times than I could count.

Antilles: "Here we go!"

The base came into view, a vast concrete and metal circle that covered an easy five kilometers diameter and was bristling with defenses. Turret guns were mounted at regular intervals on the outer ring walls and the citadel, many of which were in flames but several of which were aimed at the approaching shuttles. Or, more specifically, at us. Green turbolasers zipped past us and I flipped the safety off on my MARS, heard the others do the same, and then the sky erupted in fire and the shuttle banked hard to one side.

Antilles: "Rancor Three is down! Rancor Three is down!"

Lassiter: "Stay on course, Deck! Take is in!"

Blaster bolts came in a red haze from the courtyards below and I lifted my rifle to my shoulder, found Stormtrooper with his weapons raised, and I squeezed the trigger. Sparks flew from his armor and he staggered, then I shit into him again and saw him go down. Galen was beside me with his MARS in the sniper configuration and he started picking off targets as fast as he could find them in his scope. Rahot and the others were to my left and right and Rahot cut loose with that cable-fed heavy blasters and mowed down the first wave of troopers that came to stop us. I dropped a man in the back of the yard near the wall, shifted to another who was diving for cover and caught him mid-stride, then shifted targets again just in time to see a trooper taking aim at me. I was looking straight down the barrel of his E-11 when I squeezed the trigger and saw his helmet's right lens shatter in a shower of sparks as his bolt whizzed by within inches of my head. It came close enough to singe the cloth covering my helmet.

Decker cut loose with the shuttle's cannons and took out at least a dozen troopers before they broke and ran. He flew us down to within a few feet of the ground and we all jumped out and spread into the standard holing formation. The men deployed just as I had ordered, each moving with the ease and speed that I had come to expect. Each of them were well experienced and well trained over the past few months and they knew their business better than anyone alive. Rahot took up a position behind a low wall that allowed him to cover the two entrances of the courtyard and the ramparts where reinforcements might try to fire down on us while Galen ran for the nearest building, some kind of office structure, and started his ascent to the roof. Once he was in position, I pitied anyone who tried to sneak up on us. Govina and Jinn fanned out on flanking positions near Rahot while Santos and Jareen fell in behind me. We made for the main door that would lead us into the citadel, I blasted the lock, and we were in.

The hallway inside was eerily quiet after the carnage outside. The cannons and small arms fire were muffled by the thick walls and we could feel the occasional vibration from the massive shells that were being sent down on the base, hoping that none of them came into a section close to us, but for the most part the sound was almost drowned out. We moved with our weapons up and our eyes peeled for trouble, which we were sure to find. Santos brought up the rear while Jareen kept to the right to clear the halls and rooms as we went past them, calling out "clear" once he had swept them. We went down the long hallway to a service elevator, moved in, and I hit the call button. We spread out and hugged the walls of the elevator in case someone threw in a thermal detonator when we got to where we were going. I covered the door and waited for the chime, and when it dinged and the door slid open we moved through it and covered the hallway beyond. The sounds of battle were completely gone now, merely a faint rumble every now and then, and the only sounds were those of our boots on the metal floor.

Lassiter: "Objective is just ahead, get ready."

Jareen: "I got left."

Santos: "I got right."

We were getting close to the target location, too damn close to have encountered no resistance. I had expected heavy enemy presence once we got into the citadel, but so far we had seen no one at all. No Stormtroopers, no officers, not even any noncombatant personnel. I was starting to sweat, and that was something that I rarely did. I'd been through enough to make me trust my instincts, and right then my instincts told me that we were walking into a trap. I hate it when I'm right.

Santos: "Contact front!"

We were almost into the main chamber of the citadel when they sprang their trap, at least twenty Stormtroopers hidden in the sharp turns of the halls. They came in a charge that would have taken us by complete surprise were it not for Santos' keen hearing. He brought his weapon up and fired twice before I could think, dropping two troopers in their tracks and inviting fire from the others. The hallway was filled with the whine of blasters and the red streaks of red-hot bolts zipping through the air, tearing flesh and shattering bone and armor or careening off of the walls and bouncing off into space. Luckily for us the Empire had built this place with its usual flair and had provided with cover in the form of support struts every few meters. I ducked behind one of these and fired into the nearest trooper, dropped him, and shot into another one as a half dozen others cut loose at me.

They were still thirty or forty feet from us and they were coming along at a careful pace, which was the only thing that saved us. They were being cautious, probably thinking that there were more of us than we actually had, and they came forward in a standard line formation while laying down a withering suppressive fire. I couldn't move without nearly getting hit, and it was the same with Jareen and Santos. Santos switched hands and fired without aiming around the edge of the strut. Jareen was behind me and hiding behind his strut and firing when he could, but the enemy fire was too strong. I slipped a thermal from a pouch and pushed the activation button, then called out:

Lassiter: "Hey Jareen, it's getting hot in here, ain't it?"

Jareen: "It sure is, sir."

He would know what that meant. We had worked in several code words like that during training for situations just like this. I knew he was doing the same thing and after I counted to a quick three I tossed the thermal down the hall. Jareen threw his at the same instant, immediately followed by Santos' as well. I heard officers yell, "Thermals! Fall back!", but I knew it was too late. I braced myself and heard the deafening explosions come in tandem accompanied by the screams and cries of the wounded and dying. Men shouted orders and curses and debris flew past us in all directions, flames jumped for moment and left a cloud of smoke and fumes. I left the cover of the hall strut and looked through my optic at the men that were still standing. There were bodies scattered all over the floor, broken and bleeding, and there was blood and pieces of men and broken armor on the walls that made for a grisly sight. Of the twenty or so men that had come around that corner at us, less than half were left now and most of them were walking around in a daze or looking to the wounded men. I shot two troopers who were stumbling down the hall and then another who turned to fire at me, dropping him with a neck shot. Jareen and Santos took out the other four. We finished off the wounded on the floor as well. Like it said in our motto; "No Quarter. None Asked, None Given."

We went down the hall and through the main chamber, hugging the wall and engaging targets as they appeared. The chamber itself was massive, three stories tall and eighty meters wide, with hallways branching off from the chamber and leading into the various areas of the base. It was one of these that we took to a corridor in the bowels of the citadel that appeared to be some sort of control room. I led the way into the room with my gun up and saw four Stormtroopers and an officer walking toward us with weapons out.

Lassiter: "Target front!"

Officer: "Rebels!"

I shot the officer and saw two of the troopers drop at the same time, killed by Santos and Jareen, then shot into the man to my right and saw him drop with two holes in chest plate from my shot and Jareen's. The last man fell back behind a large console and fired at us from cover while we sought cover ourselves. He was in a good position the consoles allowed him a good field of fire over the entire room. We had to find a way to get to him, and fast. We were burning time and we were on a strict timeline. Jareen and I laid down a heavy suppressive fire while Santos crept off to the side to flank him. There were some shots from behind the console and his fire ceased, and when we went in to secure his position we found him dead.

Lassiter: "Targets down."

Jareen: "Sir, who shot that guy?"

Lassiter: "I think I know who. Jedi! I say again, Jedi!"

A voice somewhere in the room called out "saber", and I felt instantly relieved. We had been told that there would be assets in the base and I had been briefed that they would be answering to the challenge "Jedi" with the countersign "saber". We looked around the large room for the owner of the voice, but there was no one in sight. We secured the room and Jareen patched into the main computer for an update. We saw security feeds of our other two teams in different parts of the base, each securing an objective and encountering heavy resistance. We saw the courtyard where we had left Rahot, Govina, and Galen, with Rahot and Govina behind cover laying down fire in front of the shuttle. Galen was out of sight, but I knew he was doing some damage wherever he was. The voice spoke again, this time much closer, and when I turned to look back toward the dead Stormtrooper I saw two figures that hadn't been there before. They were strange looking at first, but then I had never seen a Bothan up close.

They each stood about five and a half feet tall, both had the long faces and braided beards that their race was known to have, and they wore the uniforms of Rebel soldiers. They carried no rifles, but each of them had a pistol and some kind of knife at his belt and both of them carried packs and vests full of gear. They looked awkward on their backward legs, but when they moved it was with a certain grace and delicacy that I would not have expected. Both men were strong and well built and were obviously tough men. These would be the spies I had been briefed about.

Lassiter: "Are you our inside assets?"

Maj. Jorec: "Lieutenant Lassiter? We've been expecting you. This way, please."

We followed them into the next room, cleared it, then through a sealed blast door that had obviously been intended to fend off a hell of an explosion. Jorec punched in a code and the door slid open, revealing a huge storage area on the other side that was filled with crates and pallets of metal boxes. The room was easily a whole kilometer long and fifty meters wide, with most of the floor covered in heaps of the same crates and pallets of black containers marked "Munitions". I allowed myself a smile. This was what we had come for.

Lassiter: "Command, this is Rancor One, the package is secure. I repeat, the package is secure and ready for exfil. How copy?"

Command: "Command copies, Rancor One. Excellent work, lieutenant. Extraction birds are inbound to your location."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies. All teams, this is Lassiter. Sitrep, over."

Rancor Two: "This is Rancor Two, charges armed and set."

Rancor Four: "This is Rancor Four, we have secured the objective."

Lassiter: "Solid copy. Sitrep on Rancor Three's objective."

Rancor Two: "Objective secured, sir. We've secured secondary objective and are go for exfil."

Lassiter: "Copy that. Good job, men. Drinks are on me once we're back at base."

Jareen: "Sir, is this shit what I think it is?"

Lassiter: "It certainly is, sergeant. Every one of these crates is full of power packs, thermal detonators, weapons, gear, just about anything you can think of. This base was supplied to outfit six legions at any given time, and now it's all ours. We just bought the Rebellion another year at least. Cover the doors and secure the hangar for exfil birds."  
Jareen: "Yes, sir. Hell yeah!"

Jorec: "Lieutenant, you had better come in here."

I went back to the control room and found Jorec and the other Bothan looking over the screens, and what we saw was disconcerting. There was footage from the exterior cameras that showed our ground forces advancing over the broken terrain and at least a full legion of Stormtroopers doing their best to hold them back. Our men were having a hard time of it, but they were slogging onward. Those were some tough sons of bitches, but they weren't tough enough to stand against the two companies and two AT-ST walkers that were heading their way. We watched as two large landing crafts touched down a few kilometers from the combat zone, saw the troops fall into formation and then march toward our area of operations.

Lassiter: "Command, we have a situation down here. I have eyes on two full companies of enemy reinforcements with walker support. Two chicken walkers and at least two hundred tangos are en route to the combat zone. Do you have a visual on their position?"

Command: "Negative, Rancor One. Enemy fighters are making the airspace too hot for our scout ships to operate. We need a confirmed location on enemy reinforcements so that our bombers can provide support. Redirect your teams to their location and laze the targets for the strike, over."

Lassiter: "Copy that, Command. Rancor One is wheels out and en route. Jorec, do you have things under control here?"

Jorec: "I believe so, lieutenant. You go do what you have to do."

Lassiter: "You take care, major. Jareen, Santos, let's get back to the bird and go give our boys a hand. All teams, this is Rancor One. Fall back to your shuttles and RV on my location. We're inbound in three mikes."

Rancor Two: "Copy that."

Rancor Four: "Solid copy, boss."

We ran full bore for the courtyard and found Rahot and Govina hunkered down behind two ruined barricades surrounded by the bodies of dozens of Stormtroopers. They turned as we raced past them and we piled into the shuttle, then covered Galen as he came down from his perch and hopped on just as Antilles was lifting off. I directed him to the coordinates we had taken from the base computer and he let the engine roar into the horizon. I saw the bigger shuttles coming down toward the base as we flew away and I knew that the munitions we had come for were as good as in our pocket.

The other two shuttles fell in behind us and we flew low and fast to avoid enemy anti-air fire. We buzzed over the combat zone and saw the fierce fighting that was raging there. I saw men shooting over ditches that were barely a few meters apart, men charging and falling and fighting and dying. We caught few bolts and one rocket came at us, but Antilles dodged it expertly and we went on unscathed. It took mere minutes for us to reach our objective, a ridgeline that overlooked the shallow valley in which the Imperial reinforcements were marching. They were going at double time and would reach our men before long, and then it would be a massacre.

Decker and the other pilots offloaded us on the ridge and then lifted off and hovered close by to provide close support if such was needed. I deployed my men along the ridge and set up Rahot and the other heavy gunners where they could do the most damage, as well as Galen and the other two snipers in the rocks where they would have good cover and a fine field of fire. The Imperials saw us right away and I saw four platoons pull away from the main body and come toward our position, along with one of the walkers. I tapped the panel on my wrist computer and flipped down the eyepiece on my helmet, bringing up the HUD in my left eye. The reticle came up and I used it to mark the locations of the infantry column and the walkers. I punched the panel again and transmitted the location to the command ships in orbit. The screen acknowledged that the transmission was sent and received, and then the shooting started.

Galen started the ball, picking off an officer in the front line. Two more shots came from the other snipers and two more officers in grey uniforms went down. The troopers in the front line cut loose with a barrage of return fire, sending a red wave against the hillside we hid behind. Some of the men shot back, but I ordered them to cease fire. We had to make every shot count, or else none of us would make it out of here alive. They would be coming soon enough.

Command: "Rancor One, we have received your visual. Y-wing bombers have been tasked and are inbound to your location."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies, Command. Tell your boys to get the lead outta their ass."

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Stay frosty."

Lassiter: "Birds are inbound, boys! Let's give 'em hell until they get here."

All: "None asked, none given!"

We held our fire, letting the troopers advance. They couldn't know our numbers, only that there were Rebels on this ridge and that they were presented a danger to their advance. They had to get us off that ridge if they were to carry out their attack and two companies of Imperial Stormtroopers were more than enough to get it done.

The troopers advanced in a staggered line, firing as they went. They were disciplined and well trained, and they were damn fine shots. None of us could so much as lift our heads without drawing fire. I leveled my MARS over the stand of rocks that gave me cover and took a bead on the first man I saw, a trooper who was having a hard time climbing over the broken ground and the loose rock in his armor. He had no idea that I held his life in my hands, or how quickly and easily I would have taken it. I had a special hatred for those bastards down there. If I could kill every last one of them I most certainly would. They were coming to within a hundred meters of us, easy range for our weapons. Just a little closer, just a little closer . . .

Lassiter: "Rancors, give 'em hell!"

Our line erupted in a volley that decimated the first line of troopers. Rahot and his gunners cut loose and sent down enough fire to put a regiment to shame, dropping a dozen men in the process. The first troopers fell back over the bodies of their comrades , regrouping for a second assault. The walker came up to the front and I knew we were in trouble. Those twin cannons opened fire and blew away chunks of rock the size of a Sullustan from the side of the hill. My men were wounded and dying, but they kept fighting. These were fighting men! Outnumbered ten to one and with armor breathing down their necks, and not one of them showed an ounce of give. These were my kind of men.

I fired my rifle until it ran dry, dropped the dead pack and slapped in another as fast as I could grab one out of the pouch. I hit the charge button heard the MARS power up again, then looked over my little stone wall and saw a squad of troopers coming on the slope on our right flank. I took aim and squeezed the trigger, dropping one with a shot to the chest and bringing another to his knees clutching at his neck and bleeding a red torrent all over his pretty white armor. The others dove for cover and disappeared from view. They were moving in on us. We didn't have enough men to secure the whole ridge, and they were getting wise. If they got men into position to cover our flank . . .

Jinn: "Heads up, fighters coming in!"

I heard that wheezing whine of a TIE fighter's ion engine coming in hot overhead, joined by another and another. I looked up and saw the little black dots in the overcast sky swoop down in just a couple seconds and quickly become three H-shaped black and grey fighters. Their blasters shrieked and green explosive bolts carved a pair of destructive lines across our line before they swooped over us and sped off into the horizon. I saw four of my men go flying in the air screaming and bloody, one of them missing a leg and another landing a few feet from me with his lifeless eyes wide open. The walkers rumbled closer down the hill and their cannons spoke over and over again, blowing away more and more chunks of the hillside. The TIEs were coming around for another pass and I saw more units moving in from the landing site. The majority of their forces were still moving towards our ground units, but they were focused on us for the moment and we had to keep it that way.

Lassiter: "Command, this is Rancor One. We are heavily engaged and highly outnumbered, in danger of being overrun! Requesting immediate close air support now!"

Command: "Rancor One, this is Command, Y-wings are inbound to your location but there is heavy enemy presence in the airspace. Just give them a minute to get there."

Lassiter: "We don't have a minute! Tell those flyboys to haul ass!"

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Hold on, Las, help is on the way."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies. Hang on, boys! The flyboys are on their way!"

The walkers and infantry were laying down a murderous fire and the TIEs made another pass over our position, but we weren't giving any ground. We gave as good as we got. By now the hillside below us were littered with dozens of dead and dying Stormtroopers with nearly a hundred more moving up the ridge. Both walkers were hanging back because of the rugged terrain, which was the only that saved us. If they had been able to come up on us, that would have been that.

By now the air was a red haze of blaster bolts and dancing heat fumes. Whenever one of us peeked out from cover or a Stormtrooper tried to advance it invited fire, and we were certainly accounting for more than our share. They must have thought we were a battalion rather than just a couple dozen. They were getting closer by the minute, close enough for a few of them to toss thermal detonators over our heads and for us to throw them down on them in return. I shot at every trooper that showed himself, firing with the smooth and easy motions that all my years of training and experience had drilled into me. A Stormtrooper darted from one boulder to the next and I led him a bit before firing into his chest. He stopped midstride and went down and I shot him twice more until he stopped moving. Another shot at me from the cover of a rock slide and just barely missed my head and I followed his bolt back to him and squeezed the trigger twice in the same motion. The first shot knocked away the loose sand he was leaning on, while the second hit him in the head and sent him reeling backward. A few seconds later a foolish officer stood up on a hummock of dark sand, firing his pistol at us and shouting orders to his men, and I put my sight on his chest and squeezed off my shot. His nice grey uniform burst into flames when my bolt hit him just to the right of his rank insignia and he went down like a sack of old fruit. He was a brave man. Brave, but stupid.

A thermal detonator clinked to the rocky ground almost at my feet. After a swear and a shout, I picked it up and tossed it back down the slope. The blinking red light arced over the slight grade and disappeared behind the rocks, exploding in a burst of flames and sparks. A man shouted off to my right and did the same, the grenade exploding in midair. Someone needed to teach those Imperial boys how to back their detonators before throwing them. A trooper stood up and took a shot at me, missing by inches, and two blaster bolts took him in the chest at the same time. Another stood up to throw a thermal and I shot him just as he was winding up the throw. His grenade fell from his hand and I expected it to go off right there, but one of his friends picked it up and hurled it from somewhere behind cover. I looked away to track another target and almost didn't see it as it came sailing toward me.

Just as I looked up and saw the thermal coming at me, I jumped to my feet and started to run. I didn't have a destination in mind, I was just running to get away from the threat of the grenade. I shouted "Thermal!" at the top of my lungs and took three running steps before an explosion barked almost at my back. Shrapnel stung my back and the intense heat felt like the fires of a young sun even through my pack and fatigues. The force of the blast knocked me off my feet and I must have flown a few feet because when I hit the ground I went down hard and rolled over twice. I lost hold of my rifle and stopped face down in the black dirt, gasping for air and wincing at the pain. My ears were ringing. The world around me swan in a blurred haze. All around me the men ran from cover to cover and fired at everything that moved, barking orders and calling out targets. I saw the TIE fighters coming back around, three little dots on the far horizon screaming down on us, and more chunks were blown out of the hill by the AT-STs and their cannons. Was this it? Is this how it all ends? How the fuck did I get myself into this?

Actually, I remembered exactly how I got into this. I couldn't speak for the others, but my introduction into this little adventure had been absolutely nothing in the vicinity of my idea. It all started when a big Twi'lek with a missing tendril and scar across his cheek had come into my camp on Septis 3, where I was fighting with Harek's Hellraisers against an Imperial siege that had lasted for nearly a year, and told me that I was needed at the Rebel headquarters on Yavin. I'd never been to Yavin and had no intention of going, but the big man had an order from Mon Mothma herself and the late Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan asking for me by name and he had my commanding officer, Colonel Deke Harek himself, come down and order me to go along. I didn't think much of the Twi'lek in his pressed uniform and his shiny new pistol in an oiled holster, but I had too much respect for the Colonel to refuse his order. I got on transport ship and a day later I was on Yavin and stepping off into the largest Rebel base I had ever seen.

The base itself was a real piece of work. It was built into the ruins of an ancient temple that had been built by some forgotten race in a time so ancient that no one even knew who they were or when they had existed. They had vanished into the mists of history like so many others, victims of war, famine, disease, or just the passing of years and the eventual decline and death of all cultures. The walls were covered with arcane scribblings and carvings of magnificent beasts and ancient battles, both in space and on land, and I looked at them in awe as I was led down the vast halls toward the main command center. Whoever those builders had been, they had been warriors. I could respect that. Some said that we had made a mockery of their temples or palaces or whatever this place had been, but something told me that they would not have begrudged our use of their facilities. In fact, I had no doubt that they would have invited us in. Centuries, even millennia might pass, but wars and the warriors who fight them rarely change.

I had seen bases and staging areas before, but never anything as large or elaborate as this place. There were huge barracks that would easily sleep hundreds or thousands of men each, a motor pool that housed hundreds of armored and unarmored vehicles, and on the way to the CC we passed at least four hangars that seemed to have specialized fighters and spacecraft in each one. There were X-wings, Y-wings, A-wings, and other craft that I didn't recognize. I asked Mr. Twi'lek about them and he said they were called B-wings, a new experimental fighter that was still in the prototype stage.

The command center was the biggest and most advanced I'd ever seen. Dozens of operators and analysts and communications people flipped through screens and chattered away on their headsets and readouts. I saw placards and displays of bases on Septis, Akkadia, Hoth, and several other systems scattered across the galaxy, as well as places marking the comms centers of the Alliance's many fleets that were operating in various sectors. It was hard to believe that the whole Rebel Alliance was being run from this room. I was just a grunt from the trenches, accustomed to taking orders and carrying them out. I'd fought on six systems and killed more Imperials than I could ever count, but it had always been in the field and operating in small groups and small commands. I have to admit that it was a little overwhelming.

I was led to a sort of conference room just off the main command center, a small circular room with a pedestal in the center that looked like a holographic display and five concentric rows of seats where commanders and officers would sit during briefings. A tall woman with short red hair and dressed in white robes stood at the pedestal when I was shown in, her back to me as she spoke to a Corellian on the holographic display. He had admiral's insignia on his uniform and had a boom of command in his voice. A few feet away stood a tall man with broad shoulders, a green uniform, and a well tended red mustache and beard. I knew him at once. Every soldier on the front lines knew General Madine.

Mon Mothma: "Thank you for the report, Admiral Ackbar. Deploy your ships as necessary and keep me appraised of enemy movements."

Admiral Ackbar: "Affirmative, Senator. Be safe and may the Force be with you."

Mon Mothma: "And with you, admiral."

Admiral Ackbar: "Ackbar out."

Mon Mothma: "Sergeant Lassiter, do you know who I am?"

Lassiter: "I do, ma'am. Hardly anyone in the Alliance doesn't."

Mon Mothma: "So it would appear. Please, have a seat. Do you know why you have been brought here? Did Sather give you the details?"

Lassiter: "No, he didn't. He's been pretty tight-lipped about all this. Quite frankly, ma'am, I'm only interested in finding out why I was pulled off the front lines to come here and be asked a bunch of stupid questions. I'm a soldier and there's a war to fight out there."

General Madine: "You will show the senator the respect she is due, soldier, or you will answer to me personally."

Mon Mothma: "That's perfectly alright, Madine. I was told that you were the gruff sort. The general and I were just discussing your record, master sergeant. I understand that you fought with Saw Guerrera on Jedha for several years?"

Lassiter: "I did, ma'am. I joined his cadre when I was seven and fought with him until he was killed by the Death Star, along with most of the others that served under him. He was a good man. I was on a raid off-world, or I would have died with him, too."

Mon Mothma: "And after the destruction of the Holy City, you joined the Rebel Alliance and served first with the 82nd Infantry on Saccaris, then after their decimation you were transferred to the 2nd Division under General Tallis, then to the Mechanized Infantry under Colonel Harek. I believe they call themselves "Harek's Hellraisers", is that correct?"

Lassiter: "Damn right, ma'am. Give the word, we give 'em hell."

Mon Mothma: "How charming. How old are you, master sergeant?"

Lassiter: "I turned twenty-nine last month."

Mon Mothma: "And you have been fighting since you were seven?"

Lassiter: "Yes, ma'am."

Mon Mothma: "Then you have had a combined twenty-two years of combat service against the Empire and its varied forces? That's almost the entire life of the Empire itself. There are commanding officers who haven't had as much active combat experience as you have. I have reviewed your list of commendations and I must say that I am very impressed. Six citations for meritorious valor, three for wounds sustained in the field, one that would earn you our highest honor if we had such a thing to give. There are some, General Madine included, who say that you are quite possibly the most capable fighter in the entire Alliance. It's interesting that you never received a commission."

Lassiter: "I've been offered them before, ma'am, but I'm not an officer. I'm just a soldier. I was trained to fight and to kill Imperials, so that's what I do. Saw Guerrera once told me that soldiers are remembered for the victories they win and the battles they fight, not the medals that decorate their uniforms. A medal is a useless trinket that I have no need for."

Mon Mothma: "Well, you the time has come for you to become more than just a common soldier, Sergeant Lassiter. The late Bail Organa and I once discussed the formation of an elite unit of soldiers like yourself, men that have fought and bled for the Alliance and have shown that they can get things done no matter the cost. You have proven that already, many times over, and now we have a proposition for you. We would like you to be the commander of this unit."

Lassiter: "What would this unit's mission statement be?"

Mon Mothma: "You would carry out operations in both space and on land in conjunction with the Fleet and Army forces. You would be given assignments deemed too dangerous or too risky for the average soldier, covert operations where secrecy and discretion will be paramount. You would secure assets, rescue hostages, and destroy targets and installations that would be crucial to the war effort. You would have full autonomy, you would operate under your own discretion, and you would be allowed to choose which missions you would or would not take."

Lassiter: "So what's the catch?"

Mon Mothma: "The catch? I suppose it would be that you and your men would be outside the generally accepted rules of war. You would be a guerilla force and would have no official identity if you are captured. You will have the best equipment, the best weapons, and the best operatives available. We are already forming a similar unit in the Fleet under Commander Luke Skywalker, Rogue Squadron, and now we would like to have such a unit for ground operations. What do you say, Sergeant Lassiter?"

Lassiter: "I'll join your little team and I'll help train them, sure, but I don't want to be an officer. Get someone else for that job."

Mon Mothma: "No good, sergeant. We want you for the lieutenant's position and we would not consider anyone else. You have all the qualifications that we are looking for and more combat experience than most of our generals, with perhaps the exception of General Madine. You are the man we want for this job, Sergeant Lassiter, because you're one of the few that can get it done."

Lassiter: "And what exactly is in it for me?"

General Madine: "Hard days, long battles, scars, blood, and probably certain death, but you would be fighting for the Rebellion and for the galaxy. You've been fighting your whole life, Lassiter, but now you would be fighting for something bigger than yourself. The things you would be doing would make a difference beyond moving lines on the map. Saw Guerrara fought on his own, but he fought for something better and he never asked for anything in return. He was your mentor, wasn't he? Would you hold out for something for yourself when he did all that just to make the galaxy safer?"

Now, what could I say to that? It was true that I had fought for years alongside Saw Guerrera and had known him better than anyone else ever had, except maybe for Jin Erso, and I knew that old Saw had fought for the simple reason that he hated the Empire and that he liked to fight. Saw was a born warrior and he would have dried up and died without a war to fight, but it was true that he had never asked for anything in return either for himself or his men. He had even broken away from the Rebellion because he believed they weren't doing enough and took all of his followers, myself included, and fought his own war. Now that same Rebellion was offering me the shot to do the same thing with a blank check to do it. It's funny how things turn out sometimes.

The next eight months were a blur of selecting the best candidates, setting up a training ground, and then six months of training for every possible situation. We trained for hot, cold, desert, jungle, mountain, and zero gravity combat, practiced orbital jumps, climbing, amphibious landings, and every other form of warfare that we could think of. We even got an old cruiser and did ship clearing and boarding operations. We were trained by the best of the best that the Rebel Alliance had to offer, some of the training done by myself and some of my old colleagues from the Guerrera days. Mac Jenson was there training us for boarding ops, Jarro Oretz trained us for jungle warfare (which made sense, considering his home planet), a few others that I didn't know personally or knew only by reputation. We scored high honors, had a few dropouts and washouts, and by the end of it we were a solid unit of thirty pure-dee badasses ready for a fight. We were barely a week out of training when we got our first op: hit the Ortenian Munitions Base and assist in capturing weapons and ammunition.

We were ready for action and the payoff would be huge. Even if we got just a few dozen crates of what we had in mind, we would be able to supply the Rebellion for several months at the least. The ground units landed a few clicks from the base and commenced the attack, air support and orbital bombardment softened the base up, and then we went in. It was supposed to be smooth and simple. In, out, back on board the cruiser before the Empire even knew we were there. It was supposed to be simple. Yeah, right. It was like old Saw used to say, "Everyone has a plan until the first shot is fired, then it all goes to shit."

Jinn: "Sir? Sir, you alright?! LT, are you okay?!"

Lassiter: "Fine, fine, damn it. Give me a sitrep."

Jinn: "Walkers are closing in and the Stormies are almost on us. We need backup now!"

Lassiter: "No shit! Get Command on the horn and get those fucking bombers –"

Govina: "TIEs making another pass!"

I moved to the line again, slapping in a fresh power pack as I ran, and I saw the fighters coming in again. That eerie sound of the ion engines, the shriek of their cannons, it was all getting really annoying. I wished that I had some kind of anti-air weaponry, but we hadn't been outfitted for that kind of threat. We were supposed to be operating in the base and only the base, but as usual in combat circumstances had dictated that we take another role. They could take as many passes at us as they wanted and we couldn't do shit about it. If only I could get a good shot at one of those pilots, just one good shot!

The three little dots came screaming down on us and we took what cover we could, hiding behind boulders and mounds of dirt and slag rock or whatever else we could find that would keep us out of harm's way. They were coming around the high hills, lining up their strafing run, and I was waiting for the bolts to come down on my head. A red blaster shot zipped past my head and I rolled behind cover, just in time to see the first of the fighters line up for a run and start to dip down. I cursed him and dared him to take a shot at me. I was pissed off and wanted to get a shot at that fucker. As if in answer to my challenges, a line of red bolts came out of nowhere and blew away the first TIE's right panel, sending it into a tumble. More bolts came down and blew away the second fighter, the third pulling away and making a line for the upper atmosphere. The one with the missing panel tumbled wing over wing in a fiery ball and came crashing into the ground about half a click from our position and erupted into a ball of flames and black smoke. Two X-wings went overhead at breakneck speed, followed by a flight of Y-wings coming down from atmo.

Gold Leader: "Rancor One Actual, this is Gold Leader. We're starting our attack run."

Lassiter: "Copy, Gold Leader. It's damn good to see you boys!"

Gold Leader: "Sorry about the delay. We had a few friends to take care of, but we're all yours now. What have you got for us, LT?"

Lassiter: "I've got two enemy companies in the valley between landing craft and my strobes. Jinn, pop strobe now!"

The kid didn't waste a second. He dropped his weapon to the sling and took the IR strobe from his pouch and pulled the pin. I could just barely hear the high-pitched beeping when he tossed the device near our line. There was no visible light, but to an infrared lens that thing would be lit up like a nightclub on Coruscant. Two other men from the other teams did the same, marking the positions of each our teams to the birds coming in.

Lassiter: "Do you have a visual, Gold Leader?"

Gold Leader: "Copy that, I have your positions and I have the targets. We're inbound and hot. Time to tuck your shit, Rancor One."

Lassiter: "Solid copy. Danger close. Everybody down, now! Ordinance inbound!"

We hit the dirt and made ourselves as small as possible. The Stormtroopers were coming up the hill hard and heavy and were laying down a murderous fire, but we didn't dare stand up to return fire. The Y-wings came roaring down and flew over the little valley so fast that I could barely even seen them when I looked up to see where they were, and the little blue balls that they dropped were falling just as fast. I barely saw them at all before they hit terra firma and exploded in a blinding white light and a cloud of dust and fire. The explosions were deafening, my ears rang even more, the ground shook as if a massive earthquake were going on, and the sudden wind that swept over us carried a wall of dirt and dust that covered us and the hillside in a black and grey blanket. There were at least six flashes, but I ducked my head immediately after the first barrage hit and didn't see the rest. For a few seconds the world was on fire, then the rumble died away and the wind calmed down a bit. I let the dust settle before I crawled forward and looked down at that cursed valley again, and I had to admit that I smiled a little.

The entire valley floor was a scene of complete devastation. Ten or twelve craters, each a dozen yards or more across and at least ten feet deep, littered the valley floor, the landing craft at the far side were in flaming ruins, and the two companies of Imperial Stormtroopers were gone. I saw a hundred or so bodies littering the ground, pieces of the two walkers that had been breathing down our necks, but for the most part they had been practically vaporized. The only whole bodies that were visible were the ones we had killed ourselves or the ones who were on the periphery of the carnage.

Lassiter: "Hell of a job, Gold Leader. Thanks for the assist."

Gold Leader: "Roger that, Rancor One, anytime. We're moving out to provide additional assistance to ground units."

Lassiter: "Copy, Rancor One out. Decker, prepare for dustoff. We're gonna need immediate evac."

Antilles: "Copy, LT. Coming in for the pickup."

We gathered our dead and wounded, policed our power packs for later recharging, and filed into the shuttles as they flew in and touched down. Ten seconds flat and we were back on board and rising into the overcast sky. We flew over the base and the battlefield where our men had been fighting. Our little skirmish had made a big difference. Our boys had turned the tide and sent the Imperials into retreat, the white-clad companies down on the ground fleeing back toward the safety of their base with their tails between their legs. We let them go and watched our men pull back to their staging area for extraction, saw the transports start to lift off, and then we hung back to watch the fireworks.

Lassiter: "Rancor One to Rancor Two, did you boys set those charges in the reactor?"

Rancor Two: "That's an affirmative, sir."

Lassiter: "Light 'em up, Tavot."

Rancor Two: "With pleasure, sir. Fire in the hole in three, two, one."

The base was diminishing into the distance, now at least twenty clicks away, but the bright light and huge fireball that rose from the landscape with it were clearly visible. A rushing wind swept over the shuttle and we all held on tight, then we felt the heat. It was a searing heat that made me blink a few times to save my eyes and made me sweat under my uniform. I felt the grime and dirt mix with the sweat and the blood and the ash that had caked my face and neck. I felt myself relax a little. We were on our way back to base, our mission had been a success, and we were all in one piece. Everyone in my team, anyway. We had lost good men today, but they knew what they were getting into when they joined the Rancor teams. We would drink to their memory back at the mess and write their names on the memorial wall at headquarters. They would be remembered.

Command: "Rancor One Actual, this is Command. Good work down there, son, damn good work. We saw that explosion from up here."

Lassiter: "Thanks, Command. We lost some good people down there. Are the assets secure?"

Command: "Copy that. Five transport ships full to the brim. We got it all."

Lassiter: "Outstanding, Command. Rancors are wheels up and RTB. It'll be good get back to Yavin, sir."

Command: "We're not going back, LT. Yavin base has been compromised. We're moving to the secondary HQ."

Lassiter: "And where would that be, Command?"

Command: "I hope you don't mind snow, LT. We're goin' to Hoth."


	2. Chapter 2

I'd never been to Hoth base, but I'd heard some stories from men that had served or been there. From what I could see, the stories were all true. Our cruiser left the Ortenian System and set a course for Hoth after the fleet broke up and scattered to the wind, to avoid the inevitable Imperial search parties that would be coming after us, and within a few hours we were well on our way to the Hoth system. We went by the most dubious routes and maintained complete communications silence while on our way. The Imperials were everywhere and we had intentionally chosen an isolated system for the base.

It was actually an old smugglers' den that had been built sometime before the Clone Wars, but after the wars were over and the Empire cracked down on the smugglers and their networks the place had been abandoned and all but forgotten. Rebel scouts found the place a few years ago and the high command immediately saw its potential. We moved in, expanded the complex, put in a nice big shield generator and as good a defense grid as we could afford and we had ourselves a secondary command headquarters. We had other bases in better positions, but none that were as isolated or as well hidden. After Yavin had been compromised, Mon Mothma and the other members of the high command had given the order to move out and go to the secondary location. We were en route for two days before we got to the base, and when we got there we were welcomed by the sight of two more cruisers and a Corellian Corvette waiting for us. It was nice to see such a flotilla ready at hand if they were needed. Most of the Rebel fleet was scattered around the galaxy dodging Imperial patrols, but they had apparently been planning a major offensive to have such a collection of ships here.

The two-day interval had given us time to lick our wounds and collect our dead. The final tally was twelve men dead, one team lost, and eleven wounded. Rahot had taken a hit in the arm and lost some hair, I had twenty pieces of shrapnel in my back, and Govina had a gash over her right eye from diving into the rocks, but otherwise my team was unscathed. The medical droids got us fixed up and took the metal out of my back, leg, and ass, and we had a ceremony for our fallen just before we got to Hoth. We had a nice little ruckus in the enlisted men's mess and we drank to the memory of our comrades, men and women that we had trained and fought with for months and who had become our brothers and sisters. There was a lot of talk about the Force and how they had become "one with it", but I paid little mind to that. I had never been a believer in the Force or the old Jedi religion at all. A lot of people thought that was odd, me being a Rebel, but it was more common than a lot of people liked to think.

I've fought on just about every major battle planet of the last ten years and I had seen men pray to the Force or to their own gods and saviors, always praying for strength or for courage and for protection, and I had seen most of them die bloody and screaming in the mud of whatever hellhole we happened to be fighting over at that time. I had seen a lot of men on Jedha who were fighting for the Holy City and for the old Jedi temple there, and those men were now all dead and gone. Saw Guerrera, who had taught me most of what I knew, had told me more than once that he had no faith in the Force. More than one commanding officer had told me to trust in my weapon and my wits more than the Force or any other religion. One man had repeated a phrase that he claimed a smuggler friend of his had said to him all the time, "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side."

The cruiser that served as our base of operations was an old one, converted from a civilian freighter of Clone Wars vintage, but it had all the amenities that we needed. Our barracks were cozy enough for our needs, there was a decent gym where we could stay in shape, and the mess hall had a good selection of foods from all over the galaxy. It was a welcome change from the freeze-dried field rations that I had been used to. Most of the time the only hot meals I had ever eaten had been whatever I or some other soldier had shot and cleaned that day. The only awkward times we had were around shower time. There was one communal bathing facility that we all shared and, with water being scarce and the ship having a limited capacity, we had to take group showers most of the time. It was no big deal. I mean, come on, it's not like none of us had ever seen tits or dicks before. Ironically the most modest of us all was Rahot, and he was the one with the benefit of all that fur to cover up his assets. I always got a laugh out of that.

Once in orbit of Hoth, I knew that a hot shower was the last thing I would be getting. The place was a frozen wasteland that no one in their right mind would want for their own. The last thing that I would want would be to get wet down there. One drop of moisture and a man would freeze to death in seconds. I'd heard rumors of huge predators that hunted the few indigenous animals that populated the frozen wastes, some of which were being a nuisance for the forces that were stationed there. The men used things called tauntauns to get around outside the base, furry two-legged creatures with horns and a long tail that made a decent mount once properly domesticated and fitted with a saddle and harness. They were more reliable than speeders, which tended to freeze up and stall in the extreme cold, and they were cheaper besides. All they had to was catch them and tame them, then feed them and keep them healthy. Shoveling shit takes a lot less credits than buying fuel and keeping up with repairs.

It was about 0900 hours when the colonel came down to the barracks and asked me to come to the surface with him. Colonel Tarsh was our command liaison with Mothma and Medine and was the unofficial commanding officer of the Rancor teams. I was the actual commander, but the colonel was the one who coordinated the ops and communicated with the forces on the ground from the base cruiser. He was a good man, a solid commander, and a hell of a strategist when it came to laying out a battle plan, but he had never been a field man. He was a control room soldier with little combat experience. I tried not to hold that against him.

Colonel Tarsh: "Lieutenant Lassiter?"

Lassiter: "Colonel, sir. What can we do for you?"

Colonel Tarsh: "I seem to have caught you at a bad time. I can come back in ten."

Lassiter: "Nonsense, colonel, you just caught us coming out of the shower. None of us are shy. Well, except maybe Govina. Hey Govina, cover up your assets so that you don't embarrass the colonel!"

Govina: "What's the matter, LT, you don't like these? I've got nothing to be ashamed of. Don't worry, colonel, he's seen mine and I've seen his. We don't have any secrets around here."

Lassiter: "Stow it, Govina. What can we do for you, sir?"

Colonel Tarsh: "The senator has a mission for us. She wants to see you on the surface ASAP."

Lassiter: "Just me?"

Colonel Tarsh: "For now, yes. Your people aren't missing much. There's not much to see down there, trust me."

Galen: "I can believe it. My brother served down there for a while and he said he was never happier to leave a place in his life. Ben hates the cold."

Lassiter: "Roger that. Just give me a minute to get decent and I'll head down with you."

Colonel Tarsh: "Sure thing, LT. We're wheels up in twenty."

After he left, I dried off and threw on my uniform as best I could. It was the closest thing I had to a dress uniform (basically the cleanest field fatigues that I owned) and I figured it would do for an operations meeting. I splashed some water on my face and combed down my wet hair to make it presentable, then eyeballed the stubble on my chin and cheeks before deciding that I didn't have time for a good shave. My knife wasn't sharp enough and the laser razors were all dead, so I decided to just stay grizzly. I slipped into my boots and buckled on my gun belt and holster, then fished my cap out of the locker beside my bunk.

Govina: "LT, you think they'll send us out again so soon? We hit it hard back there at Ortenia. You'd think they would at least give us some down time."

Lassiter: "We've had two days of down time, Govina. Our job is to kill Imperials, and they don't take holidays. We go where we're told to go and we go there without question. That's the job."

Govina: "Still, it seems like it's too soon. We've barely mourned our dead."

Lassiter: "When I was on Septis 3, we once fought for two weeks straight with no sleep, no rest, and only a little food and water. I had two power packs on me and a rifle that was older than me. I lost a lot of friends over those two weeks and the only time I had to mourn them were the few seconds I had to look over their corpses after they went down. We used to call that an 'easy day'."

Govina: "Copy that. Where do you think they're sending us?"

Lassiter: "Wherever they need us. Trust me, you'll be the first to know. Now please act like a soldier and put a fucking shirt on."

Govina: "Why, what's wrong with these little things?"

Lassiter: "They're not little, for one thing. Just try to pretend like you're a professional."

Govina: "Yes, sir, lieutenant sir."

She gave a half-assed salute and tied her towel around herself, covering up those pendulous breasts of hers, and went off toward her locker at the other end of the barracks. I had been hesitant about letting her on the team, mainly for this very reason, but there was no denying that she was one hell of an operator. Her dossier said that she had fourteen bounties to her credit and twenty-seven confirmed kills in her short career in the Rebellion military, before our mission on Ortenia. She was a looker, no question, but she was damn good at what she did. She liked to flirt, too, which didn't earn her any points with the brass but made for an interesting time in the barracks during the down time.

I met Colonel Tarsh in the shuttle bay and we flew a two-man pod down to the surface. There were fur-lined coats and gloves on board and when we were closer to atmo we slipped them on. Base control asked for our clearance and gave it to them, they deactivated the orbital shield, and we flew down to the base. The base itself was unremarkable, most of it having been built underground aside from the original structures and the huge shield generators that had been built when the Rebels took the place over. We flew in and set her down in one of the huge hangars that had been built into the rocky terrain, parking our shuttle next to a ship that looked like it was on its last leg. The thing was ancient, one of those old supply freighters that my grandfather had even called old. Tarsh laughed when I called it a "old ass piece of junk", and he told me not to let the pilot hear me say that. I didn't think much of that until he told me who the pilot was, a smuggler named Han Solo. He traveled with a Wookie named Chewbacca and I saw him on the roof of the ship with tools in his hands and on a tray that he had next to him. The ship needed some repairs, then. That didn't surprise me.

We made our way through the base with the help of a big man with a red beard, an officer of some kind although I never really caught his name. Tarsh knew him from way back, but it was the first time I had met him. He led us to the base control room and I was happy to get out of the frigid air and into the climate-controlled underground. The coats we wore were thick and lined with thick, course fur, but even they couldn't keep out the insane cold that pervaded the entire base. Most of the people in the base still wore the same the thick coats and heavy winter gear even in the heated areas. Mon Mothma was at the main display terminal, looking over at a plan or layout of some kind with three others. I didn't recognize them until we got closer. One of them was General Madine, another was General Rieeken, and the third was Princess Leia Organa. I'd seen her only once before, just after the destruction of the Death Star, but I had never met her this close up before. Everybody always said she was hot, and now I saw that it was true.

The display was also one that I had seen before. It looked like a plan of the Death Star, only a large chunk of it was missing. It didn't make sense that they would be looking over a plan of the Death Star, which had been destroyed nearly a year ago by Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, but there was sure to be some reason. Tarsh and I stepped into the little room where they were closed off from the rest of the control center and the four of them immediately turned around to face us while Rieeken tapped a control and made the hologram disappear.

Mon Mothma: "Lieutenant, Colonel, good to see you both again. Congratulations on a successful operation on Ortenia. The weapons and munitions you recovered will be a great asset to us."

Lassiter: "Thank you, ma'am. It didn't come cheap."

Mon Mothma: "Of course. Nothing does these days. Your dead will be honored."

Lassiter: "Thank you, ma'am. The colonel said that you have another operation for us?"

Princess Leia: "We do, Lieutenant Lassiter. First off, I would also like to congratulate you on the Ortenia mission. A base destroyed, over a year's worth of munitions recovered, and over two hundred enemy kills by your unit alone. I wish we had more like you. The mission we've selected for your team is a highly sensitive one and will require a certain . . . finesse. You've showed that your men can fight, but tell me: can you carry out missions with a bit more discretion?"

Lassiter: "We are trained for highly covert operations, your Highness. Give us the time and the right gear and they'll never know we were there."

Princess Leia: "Good, because that's exactly what we need. We need you and your team to infiltrate an Imperial base and capture a high-value target, deliver him to one of our ships, and do so without causing an alarm right away. This is a highly sensitive mission and it requires the utmost discretion. Can you deliver?"

Lassiter: "We certainly can. What's the nature of the target?"

Princess Leia: "I'm sorry, lieutenant, but that's classified."

Lassiter: "Sorry, Princess, but we need to know the nature of the target and his area of expertise so that we will know how to handle him once we get to the base and how to plan our insertion. Our team is supposed to be the team that doesn't exist and we're tasked with top-level missions, or so I was told, and no offense but we can't do our job if you don't keep us in the loop."

I could tell that the two generals were taken aback by my candor, but I had learned a long time ago that tiptoeing around only got people killed and made missions go down the shitter. If we were supposed to extract an HVT from inside an Imperial base and not cause a scene in doing so, then we needed every piece of information that we could get and not a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit about classified.

Princess Leia: "Alright, lieutenant, have a seat. Your target is an Imperial scientist who we now know was on the original R&D team that helped to build the original Death Star and to construct its weapon system. We have received intel that he may or may not be working on another project of the same magnitude and we need to know what he knows."

Lassiter: "Ma'am, are you telling me that the Empire is trying to rebuild the Death Star?"

Princess Leia: "From the intel we have gathered, we believe so."

Lassiter: "Holy shit."

Princess Leia: "Quite. The man we want you to find is Eryn Korzac, head of Weapons Research at the Imperial munitions base on Krelka."

Lassiter: "Krelka? You weren't kidding about it being difficult. Don't worry, your Highness, we'll get your man or die trying."

Princess Leia: "Preferably the former. General Rieeken will provide you with all of the information you'll need to carry out your mission. Any specialized gear you may need, submit your requisition and I'll see that it gets to you. Good luck lieutenant."

General Rieeken handed Tarsh a dossier marked "Top Secret: Classified" and a data tape, we listened to his brief on the target and the situation while Princess Leia and the others went back to their own briefing. He didn't tell us anything that we didn't already know. Krelka base was one of those places that Rebels just didn't go. The entire sector was so thick with Imperial activity that going anywhere near it was tantamount to suicide. There was a shipyard less than a parsec from the system that cranked out a new Star Destroyer every couple of weeks, there were four star bases and ground bases within a light-year, and in addition to being a major R&D base for the Imperial war effort the Krelka system also served as the headquarters of the Imperial 4th Fleet. They might as well have asked us to kidnap Darth Vader.

We left the control center and decided to take the opportunity to have some food that we hadn't cooked or hydrated ourselves. The mess hall was the one thing that was good about Hoth base, or so I had been told, so we went down for a meal and a chance to study our mission info. We found a table near the back of the hall and opened the thick folder and slipped the data tape into my wrist computer. Technically I wasn't at the appropriate rank or clearance level, but I was the commander of the Rancor teams and that gave me all the clearance I needed. The information came up in a scrolling list that highlighted the name, rank, and vocation of our target and the recent projects he had been involved in. The Death Star, some new design of Star Destroyer that was supposed to be the fleet flagship (the _Executioner_ ), and some new fighter designs that would put the Empire's TIE fighters on the same level as our X-wings.

Colonel Tarsh: "So what do you think about the op?"

Lassiter: "I think it's a suicide mission. Krelka is only slightly less fortified than the Emperor's compound on Coruscant. If this is the guy that's building the next Death Star then they're doing a damn good job of hiding him."

Colonel Tarsh: "They're jumpy. Remember what happened with Galen Erso? After we destroyed the first one, they're not taking any chances with this one. We got lucky with that one. They won't be making the same mistakes twice."

Lassiter: "I still can't wrap my head around that. Another Death Star? I didn't think they could afford that. If they get that thing up and running, our whole fleet would be in danger."

Colonel Tarsh: "That's what they're counting on. Do you think we can get this guy?"

Lassiter: "We're gonna need some new gear. If we're even gonna get into the base, we're gonna need an Imperial shuttle. We'll need some life-sign dampeners to mash our signatures from the base sensors, and we're gonna need some uniforms. They wouldn't let us through the door in our fatigues and I'd rather not walk into a wall of blaster fire."

Colonel Tarsh: "We can get those. All but the uniforms. We can get those when we get to the base and take out a few tangos."

Lassiter: "True. What about air support?"

Colonel Tarsh: "We won't have any. We'll be on our own as soon as we hit the system."

Lassiter: "Great. So we'll be on the ground on a hostile system with no support whatsoever and we'll be trying to take out one of their highest-ranking scientists. Assuming, of course, that we even get into the system alive."

Colonel Tarsh: "I'll focus on getting us into the system, you get us into the base. I know your guys can get it done."

We put in the requisitions and were promised that our gear would be delivered in a few hours, picked up what we could, and then took our shuttle back to the cruiser. We got the team together and had our mission briefing, complete with holoimages and diagrams from the data tape we were supplied, and we went over the layout, the terrain, and the area of operations in which we would be deployed. Predictably, everyone had the same reaction as I had about the target location. Rahot wasn't happy at all and Jareen summed up all of our feelings when he expressed his own particular opinion.

Jareen: "Are you fucking with me, LT? Fucking Krelka?"

Lassiter: "As fun as that would be, Jareen, no I am not fucking with you. This is the op that we were given and we will carry it out, agreed?"

All: "Agreed."

Lassiter: "The HVI we're after is one of the head researchers behind the Death Star and the new TIE advancements that have been giving the flyboys so much trouble. We owe him for those already. He's also one of the designers behind the _Executioner_ -class Star Destroyer and, get this, he's helping to design and build a new Death Star."

Govina: "Fuck me."

Lassiter: "Exactly. Let's do this one right and let's get this asshole for the ones we lost on Alderaan. Team One is going to carry out the actual op on this one with Teams Two and Three will provide overwatch and support. This is a basic snatch and grab, as few fireworks as possible. We get in, grab the HVT, and get the fuck out before we get the whole Imperial Navy on our ass. Understood?"

All: "Understood."

Lassiter: "Good. Pack your shit and get some sack time. We're wheels up in twelve hours."

We got the gear we requested in just under eight hours, including a slightly used Imperial shuttle. Of course by slightly used, I mean that it looked like they had stolen it out of a junkyard. Seriously, I'd seen taxi pods in better condition. We could spruce it up a little and make it presentable and maybe cook up a story about an ion storm or something to cover up the damage. It would be enough to get us through the orbital shields, but then we would be on our own. We checked our gear, filled up on thermals and power packs, cleaned our weapons, and twelve hours after the briefing we were in hyperspace on our way to the Krelka system.

Once we were within sub-light distance of the target system, we dropped from hyperspace and flew in with our power low and our reactors running at minimal power. We went slow and went to the fourth planet of the system, a gas giant, to hide in its atmosphere. Already there were at least five Star Destroyers within our vessel's sensor range. If any of them picked us up, that would be it. We went into the upper atmosphere of Krelka 4 and went into stealth mode, or so Tarsh called it, and while Tarsh and the bridge crew were playing cat and mouse with the Imperials me and my team geared up.

We switched our green fatigues for black coveralls and vests, life-sign dampener armbands, and we packed some spare barrels for our weapons. One of my favorite features of the MARS platform was that an operator could instantly change the weapon from a full rifle to a carbine to a long sniper rifle with different barrels and stocks. A shooter could have a battle rifle for field use, a short-barreled carbine for CQB ops, or even a kind of pistol for covert missions or discreet operations by attaching a short barrel and taking the stock off completely. We suppressors also and we attached these to our weapons to make our op more discreet. We carried minimal gear, just the vests and our weapons with a small pack on the vest for miscellaneous gear, and some water in a back pouch. We carried three thermals each, but we hoped that we wouldn't need them. The most interesting part of our special gear were the orbital jump packs that we would be using for our infiltration.

The shuttle that would be our transport was just barely big enough for our three teams. We squeezed into the main cabin while Decker and Jansen, one of our other pilots who had previously been an Imperial pilot before he defected, sat in the cockpit. They wore captured Imperial uniforms to give the communications guys a little show. We broke away from the cruiser and made for the Krelka base, hoping that we made it in one piece.

Lassiter: "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Decker and Jansen get us to within jump distance of the base, then we jump down from orbit and land a few clicks from the perimeter. We hit our LZ and hump it to the base, then we infil at the primary checkpoint. Jareen, Galen, and me will handle the extraction, Rahot, Govina, and Jinn will provide rear security and will secure our extraction route. Teams Two and Three will establish a perimeter around our insertion point and will RV with us at the exfil point."

Govina: "We're jumping, sir?"

Lassiter: "From 30,000 feet up and then straight down. You got a weak stomach?"

Govina: "Nah. I like a wild ride."

Lassiter: "Easy day, boys. Let's play it safe and keep our safeties on. We want a quiet and quick infiltration and extraction, as few fireworks as possible. NANG?"

All: "NANG!"

Antilles: "We're coming up on the drop zone, LT."

Lassiter: "Copy that. Okay guys, let's do this!"

We buckled on our jump packs and lined up in the center of the cargo bay. It was crowded, but it worked. We gave each other a gear check and secured our weapons, did a pack count, and then we waited for the green light. Decker signaled the two minute mark and lowered the rear cargo ramp in preparation for the jump. The cold air rushed in and the roar of it drowned out all other sound. We activated our jump packs and I signaled the others to pull down their O2 masks. The mask was stuffy and tight at first until the air flooded in and I could breathe right. My earpiece fired up and I could hear the chatter from Decker and Jansen talking to the comms officer on the ground. The base cleared us for landing and gave them authorization to touch down on Pad 22, which I made a note of. Decker switched channels and started the countdown:

Decker: "Coming up on the drop zone in five, four, three, two, go! Go! Go!"

Lassiter: "Hit the skies, boys!"

I was the first one down the ramp. I ran to the end of the ramp and jumped into the icy air and immediately saw the base down below us. It was just a cluster of lights at the center of a mountain valley near a tall peak. Mount Chawate, the natives called it. The outer ring of the base was plainly evident by the lights and the searching spotlights at regular intervals, with the main compound at the center lit up like a weekend on Malastare. Our designated LZ was five kilometers from the main base, near a canyon that was deep enough to hide a small city. The terrain was rugged and rocky, but there was more than enough tree cover to hide our approach.

We went into a freefall for almost ten thousand feet, then engaged our packs' flight stabilization jets. I hit mine and grabbed for the hand controls, guiding myself toward the canyon and the tree-covered slopes that ran down the mountain. We went fast and straight for the ground, then after another ten thousand feet we hit the brake jets to slow ourselves down before pulling our chutes. I saw the altimeter in my mask's HUD and counted down the altitude as I fell toward terra firma. Twelve thousand, ten thousand, eight thousand, six thousand . . . I hit the button on my chest and felt the pack blow off and the chute shoot out of the compartment. The chute deployed perfectly and I felt the lines jerk me back violently, then after a moment I felt it even out and used the hand controls again to steer myself toward the LZ. I lined up my descent, found a patch of trees with an opening big enough for me to slip through, then braced myself for the impact. I hit the ground hard and rolled with the impact, hit the detach switch and felt the lines pop free, and when I came up again I fell to my training and instantly grabbed my rifle to cover the perimeter.

The others were right behind me. Their black chutes and shadowy figures fell from the sky one by one, distinguishable only by their movement and the tiny glow of the controls in their packs and their masks. Within a minute we were all on the ground and were ready to move out. We formed a perimeter around the LZ and I punched up the bird's-eye map on my wrist computer. The map came up, the computer highlighted our route. Five kilometers to the base, as the crow flies, but by the way we would have to go it would be more like six or seven. We went down the marked path and picked our way down the mountainside. None of us made a sound. There were no jokes, no idle chatter, not even a grumble or a sneeze. We all knew the score and we knew that we were in more danger now than we had ever been on that ridge back on Ortenia. We were in the heart of enemy territory and we were well within the patrol area of the garrison at the Krelka base and if we were caught by any of those patrols then we would be in for a fight that we wouldn't win. We might take out that first patrol, but the firefight would show up on the base's sensors and we would have reinforcements coming down on us in minutes.

We humped it through the bush for nearly two clicks before we had to pull up and wait for a patrol to pass by. We heard them before we saw them, chatting away through their helmets and making the distinct radio-static sound to their voices. I threw up a fist and the others stopped in their tracks and we all went prone in the same motion. The trees and underbrush were thick, but the two moons were high and full and we could see their white armor plainly in the pale light. I flicked off the safety on my weapon and watched them come, just in case anything got started, and I waited. I counted ten men in all, walking in standard diamond formation. They passed within mere yards of us, one man coming close enough that I could have stood up and knifed him if I was so inclined, but they didn't see us and they went on their merry way.

It wasn't our only close call. Another kilometer and we had to stop and wait for a speeder convoy to move along after stopping for a smoke break, then barely half a click from the base we found two sentries that were guarding some kind of substation. It looked like a sensor shed or a shield perimeter generator to shore up the orbital bombardment shield where the main generator was weak or where the terrain made a gap or a void in the grid. We used similar backup nodes in our own shield grids. We had snuck past the other patrols, but these two had something that we needed: uniforms. Using hand signals I moved Teams Two and Three to the left and right of the substation while my guys and I moved in. Those boys by the shed were standing and talking under a bright door lamp, completely oblivious to us even if they had been looking for us. I slipped in behind one while Rahot took the other. I slipped my combat knife from its sheath, held it underhand in my right hand with my left held out, and crept up behind my man. Rahot and I struck at the same time. I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him back, thrust the tip up under his helmet and into the base of his skull. He jerked a few times and gave a little grunt, then he went limp and I knew he was gone.

We stripped the armor from the two troopers and hid the bodies well, washed off the blood with canteen water and packed up the armor and weapons, and then moved on to the base. We located our infil point, an exhaust vent that fed from the main ventilation system, and the teams deployed just as ordered without a word from me. We were all well trained and we knew what we were there to do. I took a little torch from the pouch on my vest and cut my way through the vent grill, a hole just big enough for a man to fit through, and Jinn and Galen fell in behind me when I went through the vent. We crouched the whole way, blasters up.

I led the way through the vents and kept an eye on my wrist-com for the schematics of the base. Our intel had been especially good for this op, our informant having supplied a complete set of plans for the base and all but the most classified areas. We moved slowly and carefully, picking our way through the vents and trying to make as little noise as possible. Good thing the Imperials built everything so well. These vents were heavy duty metal and were as solid as stone with no give or crumples anywhere.

The wrist-com led us over the main terminal, several corridors, then to a lift shaft that we scaled with cable clamps and climbing pads, then into the heavily classified area that was blacked out on our map. This was one of the areas where our HVT was likely to be, but after we looked it over there was no sign of our target. I flipped down my eyepiece and looked through the grates at the milling figures below us. I scanned their faces and ranks, but none of them were our boy. I flipped the listening device on and listened in as best I could. I heard two officers talking about a new project, a couple Stormtroopers chatting about the latest speeder model, and after a few minutes we were about to give up and try another area when a pair of science officers in light grey uniforms came through the doors of the lab. "We're close to perfecting the new ion engine," one said, "estimates say it will more than triple the fighter's current efficiency. I just need Dr. Aldren to look over the new specs. Do you know where he went?"

"He's at home. We were in the lab all night and he said he needed some rest. Just leave them on his desk and I'll see that he looks at them later."

That was all I needed to hear. I tapped the display on my wrist-com and pulled up the layout for the living areas. It looked like there were three large barracks for the Stormtrooper garrison, sleeping quarters for the officers, and then the larger and more opulent rooms for the base commander and the science staff. The rooms looked like they were huge, easily double the size of the officers' quarters, and they were set off by themselves at the end of a long corridor on the seventh level. That was three levels up, so I signaled Jinn and Galen to follow me and we headed back to the lift shaft. We forced the doors and latched onto the cables again, then began to climb. We kept an eye on the carriages for any sign of movement and were careful to make as little noise as possible. We were maintaining strict radio silence, but I knew that we would need some help once we got to the doctor's level. I tapped my communicator three times when we got to the target level, the signal for breaking silence, and I got the prescribed response of two keys on the comm unit. Govina came over the line and I heard her speaking in low tones.

Govina: "What can we do for you, LT?"

Lassiter: "Are you into the base security yet?"

Govina: "Copy that. I have eyes on all levels."

Lassiter: "What you got for Level 7, Section 39A?"

Govina: "Hold one. Got it, Level 7, 39A, lift shaft? Got it. Look like empty halls, three quarters occupied, one of them our guy's. I have two tangos on patrol in section 39B, heading your way."

Lassiter: "Copy. Wait until they get to our section, then kill the lights and the security feed."

Govina: "Affirmative. Wait for my signal."

I motioned for Jinn and Galen to come up at my sides, then to get ready to roll. We hung from the cables with one hand and held our weapons ready with the other, ready to go through the doors once Govina opened them. I was still watching the carriages. All we needed was for one of those things to come down on us. This wasn't a busy part of the base, but there were always people who came and went at all hours. Academics were a strange lot, always getting up and running off when an idea came into their head that just had to go into the lab or the computer or whatever media they used. With my luck, one of those guys would live on one of the upper levels and suddenly have a desperately important thought.

I heard footsteps in the hall on the other side of the lift doors. The taps were heavy and I recognized the sound of Stormtrooper boots and armor on the alloy floors. The steps came closer and closer, then heard them chattering to one another as they walked. One of them was talking about the new model of blaster that the Empire was considering for a standard issue sidearm, the other was unsure that it would get through testing. I didn't hear the name of the gun, but in the back of my mind I was thinking that the Empire would never approve a new sidearm. The war was costing them too much already, what with the loss of the Death Star and all, and they would never fork out the credits to buy a whole new line of standard weapons. I let them come on and tried to imagine them walking down the hall, taking their time the way soldiers on patrol like to do and talking back and forth as they go, looking from one area to the next. I lifted my MARS and flicked off the safety, slowly and gently so that it wouldn't make an audible click, and looked through the optic at the bright green reticle. They came closer, closer, closer still, until I could hear them just on the other side of the door.

Govina: "Tangos are in position."

Lassiter: "Kill it."

The lights flickered and we heard the power cells moan as they went cold, then the surprised exclamations of the two troopers. Jinn and Galen each grabbed a door and slid it open, and as the two troopers came into view I put the reticle on one and then the other. The shots made hardly a sound as I squeezed the trigger, I saw the momentary streak of red light, then the sparks from the men's chests as they went down. We went through the door on the tails of the bolts and within seconds we had the armor off of one of them and then both bodies down the shaft. The halls were pitch black, but our NV glasses took care of that and we moved down the corridor at the double quick. We found the doctor's quarters and while Jinn and Galen covered the halls I rapped on the door hard just as a Stormtrooper would.

Dr. Aldren: "What the hell is going on?"

Lassiter: "I don't know, sir. We're trying to lock down the problem. Do you think I could step inside for a moment to check your power cells? It'll just take a minute."

Dr. Aldren: "Who is this? I don't recognize your voice."

Lassiter: "I'm new, sir. I just transferred over from Eadu. May I step inside, sir, I really need to check those cells in case of an overload."

Dr. Aldren: "Everything is fine in here. I don't see anything wrong."

Lassiter: "Sir, I was told by my CO to check every residence and that's what I'm gonna do so if you could just let me the fuck in so that I can do my job, that would be great."

Dr. Aldren: "What did you say? Do you know who I am?"

Lassiter: "Just another asshole holding up my workload."

Dr. Aldren: "Why, you insolent little worm! I'll have your commission for this, you-"

The door slid open and I moved in as soon as it slid out of my way. He saw me a second before my fist caught him in the chin and knocked him unconscious, then I caught him as he fell and Jinn and Galen came in and cleared the dwelling. Luckily the good doctor lived alone and he'd had no visitors tonight, if he ever did. The lights came to life again and the power cells in the walls hummed to life again, so I knew the emergency power had kicked in. We set to work immediately, knowing that the hardest part of our mission was still ahead. We had made into the base, moved through it undetected, and now we had secured and captured our HVI, but now came the fun part. Now all we had to do was get him out.

Quickly, we stripped down out of our vests and gear and got into the armor from the dead troopers. It didn't fit very well, but it would fit well enough to pass us off as the real thing. We loaded our gear into the bags we had brought for the purpose, locked and loaded the captured weapons, and within five minutes we were out the door and into the hallway. Galen had the doctor over his shoulder, Jinn carried the duffle with our gear, and I took the lead. As a group we started down the hall, acting as if we were going to Medical. We went straight for the lift and waited for the carriage to arrive, stepping aboard as a crew of maintenance guys stepped off carrying toolkits and scanning equipment. Govina must have covered her tracks well if they were sending out repair teams. A power surge, they must have thought, or maybe a bad generator. Something had to have caused that blackout. I chuckled to myself as I thought of them tossing down the very thought of an enemy incursion. After all, this was Krelka. Who would be stupid enough to try something here?

We rode the lift to the top level, stepping off into a corridor abuzz with activity. Repair crews ran this way and that carrying tools and equipment, squads of troopers milling around, officers barking orders, all too busy dealing with the situation to notice a couple troopers with a man that was passed out. We had changed the doctor into the plainest uniform we could find in his closet, which was still distinct but far less obvious that what he usually wore. At a glance he looked like just another officer. We moved down the corridor gingerly, careful to draw as little attention as possible and to avoid any inquiring eyes.

By now the security elements were out in force, scrambling all over the base to find the source of the blackout. Squads of Stormtroopers ran past us in column formations, weapons held ready and the officers and NCOs directing them to search every room and every level. I saw them run by and felt the urge to go hot, but that little voice in the back of my mind screamed at me not to do anything stupid. The blaster in my hand was heavy and my trigger finger was itchy as hell. Every time an officer or a trooper gave me the eye or barked an order at me it felt the urge to blow him away. My skin was crawling and I was hot under the armor. I'd always hated wearing this shit. I don't know how Stormtroopers wore it every day.

Govina: "Sir, we have a maintenance problem on Pad 22. Request permission to dispatch Crew 2 to the problem."

It was the preset code that we used for OpSec situations like this. Phase One was complete, we had the target and were preparing for exfil, and now we had to get out of the area and proceed to Phase Two. We all knew that the base staff was listening in by now and that they were monitoring every channel, so we had been trained to use their own protocols against them. I took out the little communicator from my trooper's belt and tapped it twice, as if I had missed the button the first time, and Govina answered with two more keys. I tapped it again and answered with the same tone that I knew only too well from years of listening to Empire chatter.

Lassiter: "Affirmative, Pad 22. Repair crews are authorized, Crew 2 has been dispatched."

Govina: "Affirmative, Lieutenant, transmission received and acknowledged."

They were moving to Pad 22 and our shuttle. By now the fake cargo had been offloaded and our pilots were ready to lift off. The base was probably getting antsy and it was only a matter of time before someone got wise and realized that the crates we had delivered were full of bad engine parts instead of weapons and power packs like the manifest said. One of them even had a special little surprise for later. People were starting to notice the guy that Galen was carrying over his shoulder and they were starting to wonder. I was amazed that we had made it this far. After all, what were three Stormtroopers doing with a casualty on the top level when Medical was six levels down? We played like we had just found him and let the confusion give them all the wrong idea, hoping that it would work for us. No one knew what was going on or what had happened yet. Had they been attacked? Was it a raid? Was it some kind of power failure?

Most of time, if a situation is confused and chaotic enough, a man can hide in plain sight if he just laid low and let the situation play in his favor. Men that let their nerves get the better of them and start getting jittery and give themselves away or act too nervous or try too hard to act normal and wind up doing the exact opposite. We were all veterans of many a situation like this one where confusion and chaos were the norm. We had all been highly trained in cloak and dagger and had years of experience in dealing with Stormtroopers to draw on to make ourselves look convincing. We went at a casual pace, our weapons carried ready and our step in tune. We were just three troopers with a casualty doing as ordered and taking him to Medical. I looked from one officer to the other as we passed them in the corridors, happy that my helmet hid my expressions, and as we passed the junction of four corridors near what looked like a barracks I looked down the one to our left and saw what I wanted: the brightly-lit header over a set of thick blast doors that read "Entrance: Landing Pad 22". We were four sections away, a short walk at any other time but now a veritable forced march. All we had to do was make it a few more minutes. Just a few more . . . .

Imperial Officer: "You! You there, sergeant! Where are you taking that man?!"

It took me a moment to remember that I was wearing a sergeant's armor. We all stopped and stood to just as the officer and six troopers came up behind us. I turned to face him just as I heard the click of his polished boots on the alloy floor panels, sounding a second before the clack of the troopers' boots as they marched in step. He was young, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, and he wore the black uniform of an infantry officer. His uniform was spotless and immaculate, his face clean shaven, his boots polished to a high sheen. He had the face of a martinet and his every feature was stiff as a board, the hallmark of either a dedicated zealot or an ambitious young officer desperate to make a reputation for himself. I hated both with a vengeance.

Imperial Officer: "I asked you a question, sergeant! Where are you taking that man? What happened to him?"

Lassiter: "Him? He was injured in the blackout, sir. We found him at the bottom of a stairway on Level 12. I assume that he fell when the lights went dark and hit his head. We found him unconscious and were on our way down to Medical."

Imperial Officer: "Did you call for a medical team?"

Lassiter: "There seemed no need, sir. We can get him there just as fast as a team could and I'm sure there are other casualties that demand their attention."

Imperial Officer: "Nevermind that. Leave him here and call for a medical transport and fall in with my squad. Follow me."

Lassiter: "Sir, this man is hurt pretty bad. We need to get him to the medical bay as soon as we can."

Imperial Officer: "I gave you an order, sergeant!"

Lassiter: "Sir, I think that –"

Imperial Officer: "I want your operating number! I'm putting you up for insubordination!"

We were fucked. I wished that I had taken the time to memorize the number on the dead man's uniform under the armor. Stormtroopers never had a name, just a number. Imperials believed that taking away a man's identity and putting him into a system where he was just a cog in the machine instead of a soldier and part of a unit somehow made him more efficient in battle. It would have been easier to remember if the bastard had had a name, it made it easier to kill him knowing that he was just a number under that helmet, the one I now wore. That officer was looking me in the eye with that smug expression that all Imperial officers wore when addressing the enlisted men, men whom they were trained to look down on as being of lower station and inherently lower men then they themselves. Even if I had been an actual Stormtrooper, I would have been little more than a maggot to him. Thinking about that only made me want to shoot him even more.

There was a crackle in my ear and I knew that the others knew what was going on. For all I knew, they could be up in the vents above us even now. The young officer began to dress the three of us down, yelling something about courts-martial and "having our commissions" or something along those lines, but I was only half listening. I heard two keys in my earpiece and then heard Govina's voice whispering in my ear, barely audible over the kid's screaming.

Govina: "Looks like you're in a jam, LT. Say the word and we'll help you out."

Lassiter: "Do you have control of this situation?!"

I spoke out loud, pretending to answer the officer's yelling (which made him turn red in the face and begin to dress us down even more), but Govina got the message.

Govina: "Copy that. I have full control of the security system, but not for much longer."

My grip was tightening on the E-11 in my hands. My trigger finger was getting itchy. We were so close to our getaway that I could smell it, and now this little son of a bitch is holding us up for some Imperial bullshit regulations about this or that protocol and procedure or some such thing. I wanted to just shoot him and have it over with, but that would be suicide. The six troopers he came in with were now spread out in a staggered line across the corridor. One move from us and we would have six blasters on us, plus whatever troopers were in close proximity to us. A quick glance around us and I saw at least a dozen milling around and more coming and going through the halls. Galen and Jinn had moved to either of my sides, each with their weapon sort of casually held at their sides. Galen turned slightly, probably to get a better position for shooting if anything went down, and he must have moved just right to expose Dr. Aldren's face.

Stormtrooper: "Sir!"

Imperial Officer: "What is it, private?!"

Stormtrooper: "This man is Dr. Aldren from R&D!"

Imperial Officer: "Seize them! Surrender your weapons and stand clear!"

Lassiter: "Kill it."  
The lights went dark and we heard that same whining sound that we had heard in the lift shaft, I tapped the side of my helmet to engage the thermal setting that I had put at the ready on putting it on, and in a second I was looking at the silhouetted forms of the officer and his men. He was glowing red and orange I his fancy uniform, while the insulated forms of the other Stormtroopers were marked as tall blue columns against the green and light blue background. Their armor was designed to defeat thermal imaging, but in this case the equipment was doing its job too well. I flipped my blaster to my shoulder and shot into the officer's chest as he reached for his sidearm, loving the blast of red and orange that erupted from his chest as the bolt went home. I shifted to one of the troopers and fired at the same time as Jinn, our two shots taking him in the head and chest simultaneously.

In just a few seconds the fight was over. The sound of blasters rang in my ears, the sounds of men hurt and dying filled the halls, and for a few fiery moments the air was streaked with the red-hot forms of blaster bolts. I shot into the forms moving before me and saw a man go down, then another, then it seemed as if all of them fell at once as a clatter of ceiling panels and a scattered shout of orders and taunts rang out beneath the shooting. A few seconds and it was all over, the lights came back on, and I flipped off the thermal imaging mode and saw the carnage.

The corridor was a mess, blaster marks and burned or blasted panels everywhere, and there were well over a dozen bodies littering the floor. The young officer was at my feet, stone dead, his men lying in a half-circle around us, and farther down the corridor were more troopers, two NCOs, and two or three scientists and workmen who were unlucky enough to have been caught in the crossfire. Govina was off to my left, with Rahot and Jareen flanking her. I pulled off the helmet and tossed it away, as did Jinn and Galen, and without a word we all started down the corridor toward Pad 22. Alarms rang out and a voice came over the sound system calling for a lockdown of all levels, that a Rebel force had infiltrated the base, and for all units to prepare for search and destroy. We ran for all we were worth, my armor rattling on my shoulders and legs and the others yelling, laughing, and cursing on every side. Dr. Aldren was starting to come to and was screaming to be let go, but Galen was having none of it. The landing pad was getting closer, closer, and closer still, and I could feel the floor vibrating below my feet. Decker must have started the shuttle's engines.

Blaster bolts zipped past us and we dove for cover, what little there was, and I spun on my heel and fired blindly at the troops at the far end of the hall. There were dozens of them, maybe a full platoon, and they were all shooting at us. I fired five or six times before I ducked into the cover of a recessed doorway, flicked the selector switch on my E-11 to burst fire, then sprayed fire into the group as fast as I could aim and squeeze the trigger. I saw men go down amid showers of sparks, duck for cover and scatter to either side of the corridor or to the far sides of the junction, and return fire as they ran from cover to cover. Jareen and Jinn were both prone on the floor and firing at everything that moved, I was spraying bolts at the clusters of men that were still pouring out of the four hallways at the junction, while Galen and Govina were working their way down the corridor with Dr. Aldren, kicking and screaming, toward the pad. Rahot was behind me, laying down a withering fire with his heavy blaster.

It figures that it would all go to hell at the last minute. Everything had been going according to plan, everything was going smoothly, and then some wet-behind-the-ears shavetail lieutenant with a bug up his ass had to go and ruin it all. Figures.

They were coming down the corridor in force now, twenty or thirty of them moving in line and firing as they went. We were taking down our share, but there were too many of them. Once in range they would start lobbing thermal detonators at us and blow us all to hell. The pad was only forty meters away now, just a short run for a fit man. Galen and Govina were almost there now. Decker came over the comms and said that he was wheels up and ready for liftoff as soon as we got to him. So close, yet so far.

Lassiter: "Come on, guys, let's get out of here! Bounding overwatch, Jareen and me first. Jareen, on me!"

The two of us jumped up and ran about ten meters while the others laid down cover fire, then stopped and took a knee to cover the others. I saw a trooper peak out from behind cover and shit twice at his head, seeing the bolts hit the wall within inches of him. Damn Imperial blasters can't hit shit at a distance! We fired over the shoulders of Rahot and Jinn, then ran another ten meters and covered them again. The troopers were getting wise now and started coming at us hard and fast. We fired at the line and the clusters where they bunched to avoid their fallen comrades. Jinn and Rahot ran to our location and we leapfrogged again, I spun around and took a knee, and as I turned I saw the bolt coming a split second before it hit me in the shoulder. I felt the burn before the pain, felt it spin me around, and before I knew it I was being carried by huge furry arms to the landing pad.

We were aboard the shuttle before I came to. Rahot put me down on the bench and I saw the bay doors lift and close. Decker and Jenson were chattering away in the cockpit, I heard the engines flare up, and then the whole ship shook with the rush with of wind and fire that took us off of the pad and into the atmosphere.

Jinn helped me out of my armor and looked at the wound on my arm. It wasn't as bad as I thought, thanks in large part to the armor. The plate covering my shoulder and upper arm had taken most of the blast and had deflected the worst of it away from me. My arm had second-degree burns from the residual heat and part of the skin had been blown away, but nothing too serious. I'd had much worse in my time. Rahot and Galen had Dr. Aldren on floor and were holding him down while Govina straddled him and secured his hands and feet, then drug him up close to the cockpit where we could keep an eye on him. I stepped over him after Jinn finished with my field dressing, heading for the cockpit. He was still kicking and screaming and cursing us, but Govina had gagged him to shut him up.

Lassiter: "How we doing, Decker?"

Decker: "We should be clear of atmo in a few seconds. The base is scrambling fighters to intercept us."

Lassiter: "Can we outrun 'em?"

Decker: "In this heap? I can try."

Lassiter: "What about our little care package?"

Decker: "I was just about to let her rip. Care to do the honors?"

Lassiter: "Don't mind if I do."

I looked over and saw the display with the detonation code. I punched it in and found the button to activate the charges we'd left in the cargo containers, the ones marked as ammunition that would surely have been taken to the base munitions dump. With that much ordinance in such a small space, it wouldn't take much to make a hell of a bang. A monitor above the console showed the base retreating into the distance behind us. I hit the button. A tiny ball of fire spouted from the lower part of the base, then a ring of flame and smoke spewed from the lower levels, and then what seemed like half of the base complex erupted into a cone of fire. I smiled to myself as I watched the mighty Krelka base blown to smithereens. A lot of our men had died trying to take that base in the last few years, and even more had died in the campaigns and assaults launched from it. Our brothers could rest easy knowing that we had gotten some of our own back.

Proximity alarms began to sound and I saw the tiny red blips on the screens that indicated TIE fighters coming for us, but I wasn't too worried. Other screens showed our old cruiser moving in to cover us. No wing commander would want to take that on without heavy support from an Imperial cruiser or destroyer. The fighters pulled away and we raced toward our ship, just in time to see four Star Destroyers come onto the scopes at the edge of the system. If we were lucky, we could outrun them. If not . . . . ah, hell, you have to die of something, right?

Command: "Rancor One, this is Mission Command. Do you have the HVI, over?"

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies, Command. HVI is on board and secure. Secondary objectives completed as well."

Command: "Solid copy, Rancor One. Shuttle bay doors are open and we are ready for exfil as soon as you're all with us. Welcome home."


End file.
